Friday, 11 January 2013

The little craft settled slowly into the dust as its engines whined to a reluctant halt.

“I told you to take a left,” Eva said scornfully, “but no, you always know better. Bloody men. All the same.”

“So where do YOU think we are?” Harry asked, sighing loudly.

“That over there is Earth. I think they call this the Moon,” she replied, turning the pages of their Rough Guide to the Milky Way. "Unbelievable names - you'd think they thought they were the only species in the universe."

Wednesday, 9 January 2013

Above me I see distant stars, out of reach, like blue skies and freedom.

Life echoes. In every incarnation I have been a thief, and I have been caught.

Millennia ago, a young soul, I poached a single rabbit from the King's Forest to feed a starving family. Into the hole I went, clamped in chains, forgotten.

Most recently it was Leporidae gene seeds from the Imperial Menagerie. Rabbits to feed a whole colony. And for that I was sentenced to languish deep in this black hole, made to remember every one of my past lives.

I long for forgetfulness.

Author bio: John Xero would like to be remembered. In his dreams he is remembered for his imagination.

Friday, 4 January 2013

The one-man spaceship jerked to a stop. Goo poured in, coalesced into tentacles, and wound around him. Kenjek struggled. Escape was impossible.

Kenjek had run for days. Not from the Galactic Police, but his boss Squeedo. When Squeedo asked him to spend time with the family, Kenjek saw the opportunity to move up the chain of command. But he hadn’t signed up for this.

The bands tightened.

“Hi honey. I missed you,” said Squeedo’s daughter. “Ready for some fun?” A tentacle caressed his face while another slipped down his pants.

They say in space no one can hear you scream.

Author bio: Carla lives in Florida with her family and three cats. (The cats claim they wrote this story. They lie.) She is spearheading an anthology of tarot based fiction with a 2013 publication date and likes participating in National Novel Writing Month as well as writing speculative fiction.

Wednesday, 2 January 2013

Orst sat on his throne, unmoving. His was a kingdom of dust and silence, and for a thousand years it had remained so.

The day came when a lost tribe, weary and malnourished, entered his lands. They halted, lacking even the strength to raise camp.

Orst stood and gathered his magic.

The land shuddered with memories of past wrath. Dark clouds gathered over the fearful tribe. The ground shook again as green shoots burst forth. Fat drops of rain fell and the seedlings became trees, bore fruit.

Orst had been a poor king. He vowed to be a better god.

Author bio: John Xero believes everyone should be given a second chance. And everyone should make the best of it if they are.